


Towards the Sun

by FlyingIcarus_21



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Red Hood: Lost Days, Under the Red Hood
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Amnesiac Jason Todd, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Baby Damian Wayne, But he is doing his best, Canon-Typical Violence, Fluff and Humor, Gen, Implied Non-Consensual Drug Use, Jason Todd Has Issues, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Resurrected Jason Todd, Tim Drake is Robin
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-25
Updated: 2020-05-13
Packaged: 2021-03-02 03:14:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,451
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23798302
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FlyingIcarus_21/pseuds/FlyingIcarus_21
Summary: At this point, Jason is a tired, under-glorified and unpaid babysitter. He eyes Damian’s car seat and briefly considers the ethics of dropping him off at an orphanage without running a thorough background check. What Talia doesn’t know won’t kill her, right?Damian’s big, green eyes peer up at him as if sensing the thought. Oh, emotional blackmail, huh?A few seconds of intense staring later, Jason sighs. “Fine. But you’re on thin ice, kid.”Ever since Jason woke up, he’s known two things: he belongs to the League of Shadows, and his life mission is to kill as ordered. Fast-forward a few months later, and Talia ul Ghul decides to shatter his reality by giving him a baby while she wrecks havoc on the League.New mission: return Damian to his father.The issue? He has no idea who this “Batman” is.
Relationships: Jason Todd & Damian Wayne
Comments: 62
Kudos: 584





	1. Chapter 1

The pit burns.

Constantly and excruciatingly. Every time Jason spars, the pit is at the back of his mind, sizzling with the force of lava.

And it is this very pain that makes him a valuable weapon for the League of Shadows. They have few assassins who have been touched by the Lazarus Pit (much less _doused_ in it). They have even fewer handpicked by the ul Ghul clan. The pit is painful and horrible, but it makes him un-expendable. Jason knows better to complain about the only thing keeping him alive.

“That’s enough,” a harsh voice interrupts, and he blinks. It takes a few seconds for the world to bleed back into concrete colours and shapes.

Beneath him, a male body draped in black is bleeding out. A silver blade is sticking out of the torso like a toothpick. Fresh blood is seeping onto the magenta floors, colouring it a vibrant shade of red. The longer he stares, the more bile rises up in his throat. “Stand.”

Mechanically, Jason pulls himself off the body, trying his best to ignore how the victim’s blood has started to soak through his sandals. He forces himself to look toward his instructor instead.

“You’ve barely improved,” the man says like he does every training session. Almond-shaped eyes narrow at Jason. “You’re inept at using swords. It will lead to your demise should you not learn.”

There’s the echo of rage in the back of his mind at the man’s words. Jason _has_ been trying, he really has. Lessons upon lessons with countless hours of training, yet nothing satisfies any of his instructors. The worst part is that when he engages in any sort of intense physical activity, the pit takes over. By the time, his instructor’s snap him out of it, there’s another dead person on the floor – and yet it’s still not _enough?_

But he knows he has to keep cooperating to survive. The League gave him this life, and they can take it just as quickly if they want. Ra’s explained _that_ too well.

( _There was a reason why_ _Ra’s was insane after all. It went deeper than his innate insanity – it went as deep as the green pulsing through his veins –)_

His instructor goes on to lecture him for a few minutes while he just nods, knowing Talia may just kill him if he attacks the guy. He is dismissed quickly from the training chambers after that, instructed to change and report to Talia.

This is definitely his _least_ favorite place, Jason thinks as he slips into the halls carved into the large mountain. It’s a palace-like structure isolated on an island, built as a temporary “safehouse” as the League relocates its’ headquarters. It’s massive, and as he drifts through the halls, he feels like a ghost. Insignificant. Invisible.

Not to mention, his moments of consciousness exist only outside of combat, and he is expected to fight (or at least spar) a lot on this damned island. When he fights, it is muscle memory and the pit, burning with pain and agony, that pushes him to murder. He hates it but he can’t do anything till Talia takes his training elsewhere.

He continues to weave through the halls silently. Hopefully, Talia will have some good news for him today. Like a relocation.

Killing doesn’t bother him as much as it did, but Talia’s private training sessions focus less on training and more on tactical things, like mission planning. He almost likes it. It’s a breath of fresh air against the metallic scent of blood that he inhales nearly every day. Eight months ago, when he first awoke, he hated everything. At least now, he’s doing okay.

Some nights, he wakes up from nightmares he doesn’t remember with panic coursing through his veins. Other nights, he’ll dream of flying through the air and feeling truly alive. He focuses on the latter and waits until the pit finally restores his brain. One day, Talia says, he’ll _really_ be okay.

“Jason,” a hushed voice interjects, and he hates how he flinches before dropping into a defensive stance. Speak of the devil, and she’ll appear – Talia steps out of the shadows from a nearby hall. Her hair seems more tousled than usual and an odd, brown sack is tied to her chest.

“Talia,” he eyes her wearily. He usually meets her in a separate training room. Her seeking him out can’t mean anything good. She may have a soft spot for him (she gives him a break sometimes) but she was as deadly as they came. “What’s up?”

Before she can reply, there’s an earthshattering boom in the distance. The ground rumbles as a disturbingly large crack runs through the ground between them.

She hisses a swear under her breath and steadies herself using Jason’s shoulder, her other arm wrapped around the brown sack. The ground is only settling when she forces him to look at her again.

“You must leave now,” she says.

His mind is starting to catch up with him. She is giving him orders to secure the mountain. “What do you need me to do about the breech –”

“ _Leave_ ,” she interrupts forcefully. “I caused it.”

His mind skids to a halt because that’s _really_ not what he was thinking she’d say. “ _What_?”

There’s another explosion, sounding uncomfortably closer to them. All other assassins on the island must be mobilized by now, looking for the source of the explosions. Jason should be out there with them –

“Jason, _habibi,_ listen to me,” she grasps him again, nails digging into his shoulder. He can barely feel the pain over his surprise. Talia hasn’t shown affection to him since after the whole pit ordeal, and now she happens to be showing it as she literally _wrecks her own island._ “You must take Damian and go.”

The sack comes undone from her neck and she thrusts it toward him. Belatedly, he realizes that it’s not a sack – _oh God_ – that’s a baby – _it’s a_ _baby_. Talia al Ghul is holding an infant and _oh my God_ , the baby looks like her. The eyes, although currently closed, have her shape. The nose is just as round. Since when does she have a baby – _what the fuck –_

“His father will grant you sanctuary,” she continues as if she isn’t dropping several (literal) bombshells. “He will protect both of you, this I swear.”

Too much is happening at once. Panic starts to bubble in his chest. The unconscious baby is so tiny in his arms. What if he breaks it? It’s way too fragile – _fuck,_ he can’t do this.

“I can’t do this,” he blurts out, as if she’s ever accepted his refusal. In response, she raises a judgemental eye at him as if everything she’s asking from him right now is perfectly reasonable. As if _she_ didn’t make Jason a _literal assassin,_ with a mission to _kill,_ not _childmind_. “He’s too fragile – why are you even giving him to _me_?”

“You will be fine, Jason,” she says. Another explosion rings at a distance. The walls arounds them have started to slowly crumble. “I trust you, _habibi._ I know you can do this.”

Talia isn’t one for affection, he realizes shakily. Suddenly, everything clicks into place. The explosions, the baby, this sudden encounter.

“You want me to smuggle your kid out of the League?” his voice cracks at the end, making him feel small and a lot more like a normal seventeen-year-old “Ra’s will _literally_ kill you, T.”

It comes out before he can stop himself – but they both know it’s true. If Ra’s knows about this – which he must – then he probably wants to use the kid in the future for something. Talia’s eyes dim the slightest bit at his mention, but she managed to look unfazed otherwise. “It would not be the first time. I cannot let Damian experience what I did as a child.”

His eyes flicker to the baby – Damian. Jason can’t imagine raising a kid here. He’s starting to get where Talia’s coming from but that doesn’t make him want to do this. “You’re not coming?”

“For now, he only needs his father,” she responds, voice and face softer as she glances down at the sleeping baby. “I will need to provide you cover.”

Jason knows it’s more than that – he isn’t stupid. This is an uprising against Ra’s. There’s no way Talia could have executed all these explosions on her own on an island that Ra’s presides over. He can only hope she’s successful. If she isn’t, she’ll be dead for good this time.

“Fine,” he finally manages. _It is for the greater good._ “Who’s his dad?”

Talia relaxes for a second, but it’s broken by an explosion that’s uncomfortably close _._ It can’t be more than a dozen feet away – small but near – and Jason knows _that’s_ bad _._ It’s bad enough to cause his ears to ring.

When she responds to him – he has no idea what she’s saying. There are brief pauses in the middle of the ringing where he can make out “Batman”. Absently, he notes that’s one of the weirdos from the Justice League. It makes little sense considering who Talia is, but there isn’t any time to ask.

In the next few seconds, he’s being pushed down the hall where the League stores their escape pods. He stumbles down the hall with his arms wrapped around Damian (who has remained miraculously asleep this entire time – maybe drugged?). He throws a glance over his shoulder. Talia’s smiling sorrowfully at him, eyes glossed over for the first time.

But then something quick and black comes shooting at her. An assassin – he realizes.

His mind is screaming at him to go back – but Damian starts to stir in his arms and Jason knows, he knows he can’t let Talia’s efforts go in vain.

He breaks into a dash down the hall, explosions and screams sounding off not too far behind him.

_

So, Jason doesn’t really know how to fly.

The control systems on the escape pod are simple enough to get the ship up and running, but after that, he has no idea what to do. He leaves the ship on auto-pilot and decides to focus on the recently awaken Damian until he sees land.

Seconds after liftoff, Damian started to shriek like a damned banshee. Jason almost ( _almost)_ wishes that whatever Talia used to get him to fall asleep worked a little longer. The kid’s screams were almost more painful than having to listen to his instructors.

“Calm down, please,” he says as he fleets through the ship, stringing supplies together to create a makeshift diaper. Babies needed diapers and stuff, right? Minutes later and Jason is at an impasse with an _infant_. He still hasn’t stopped crying. 

The only other thing he can think of is food. He can look for baby food when he reaches land, but until then, there is nothing he can do.

“So, this is my life now,” he says, somewhat disbelieving as he rocks the wailing infant in his arm. He hasn’t dropped or killed the kid yet, so he’ll count that as a win for now. The escape pod glides over the ocean. Absently, he realizes that if the pod were to hit the water, no one would come to his rescue. An empty pit forms in his chest. He’s alone now.

Well, there’s Damian too – but how is a baby supposed to help him?

At the same time though, excitement and fear have mingled together in the pit of his stomach. This is his first time since the pit – the first time he remembers – being free from the League. No one can force him to kill or lecture him about his sword grip. It was just him, the ocean, and Damian.

At the same time, he has no idea what to do. Without anyone watching over his shoulder, telling him who he is and what to do, he feels like a headless chicken, walking blindly (and stupidly) into the unknown. His name is Jason, and he belongs to the League. That’s his life. Beyond that, is there anything? Does – did he have a family? Is anyone looking for him right now?

Does he have a purpose?

He absently adjusts his grip on Damian. His purpose, for now, is finding “Batman”. He’ll sort out his past when that’s done _(– if Talia doesn’t get to him first –),_ but for now, he prays that “Batman” doesn’t arrest him or something for his League affiliations. He’ll going to have to work around that somehow.

As Damian continues his shrieking, Jason plops into a seat at the deck of the ship and checks the radar. Based on the lack of planes behind him, it’s obvious no one has noticed his escape. He should have some time before assassins start coming after him. As he sighs in relief, Damian’s shrieking seems to crescendo, like he can’t tolerate Jason’s relief.

Pushing away the emerging annoyance, he settles Damian on his lap and looks at his red, tear-stained face. Damian’s a chubby baby, barely fitting into his makeshift onesie made out of a mixture of tape and fabric. A twinge of guilt bubbles in his chest for being annoyed with the kid. He can’t be more than a few months old, and now his future is in _Jason’s_ hands.

“It’s okay,” Jason says softly. It catches Damian’s attention enough for his green eyes to focus on Jason’s general direction whilst wailing, a little less loud. “I’m going to protect you till you get to your dad. You’re safe with me.”

And by some miracle, Damian’s tears seem to be running out. Is talking to babies the key to making them stop crying?

“I’m scared too,” Jason continues, trying not to feel embarrassed for confiding in a baby. He’s quieting down at least. “I have no idea what’s going to happen when we get on land. Or how we’re going to find your dad.”

Jason swallows at the sight of Damian’s wet eyes. “But we’re going to be okay. I promise.”


	2. shaky hands and uncertain plans

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jason tries to navigate the real world while keeping a low profile. It doesn't go as planned.

Several hours later finds Jason docking his ship in Virginia, United States. The pod settles down in a coastal town with an empty, long-stretching beach hidden behind a cliff. It’s a good temporary cover, but it doesn’t mean someone isn’t going to be coming around soon.

“Damian,” Jason hisses, exasperation bubbling up as Damian started to screech again. He thought they were making progress, _dammit_. “Please, shut up.”

Damian does not, in fact, shut up. While Jason continues to scramble around the ship, looking for rations and anything else to help them on their who-knows-how-long journey, Damian continues to wail like a banshee from the pilot’s seat.

“What did I do to deserve this?” Jason mumbles, stripping away his bloody clothes in favour for an oversized black cloth. He wraps it into a makeshift shirt and hesitates at a spare set of oversized pants. It’s clear that these clothes were intended for a specific assassin with different body dimension, but Jason needs to make do. It’s just difficult figuring out how.

Eventually, he spots something sharp he can maneuver into a safety pin. The pants flare from waist down but they stay in place. He’ll count that as a win.

Damian, on the other hand, can’t be carried around in a brown sack like Talia gave him. Jason may have only been out in the real world a few times, but it seems like common sense not to carry a screaming baby in any sort of sack in public. America can’t be _that_ different than the European countries he’s trained in after all.

Apprehension bites at his chest as he scans the ship once more. The oversized clothes themselves were miraculous to have stumbled on, but it seems a little too unrealistic to hope for a baby carrier.

_Fuck. I’ll have to abandon the sack._

The realization is bitter, but time is ticking and if the townsfolk don’t get here soon, Ra’s assassins will. He lifts Damian up from the sack and hopes his makeshift onesie will last long enough till he finds proper clothes.

Just as he turns to the control panel, something glints from the brown sack. It’s a small silver box, a little rusty on the edges. For a moment, he stares in disbelief. Talia must have put it in for him, but it only makes him wonder how long she had planned this.

He picks it up and stuffs it into one of his sleeves, and then searches for the self-destruct button.

_You’re wasting time you’re wasting time you’re –_

He slams the red button, heart pounding in his ears. He doesn’t need Talia in his head right now. He doesn’t need any of this.

He swallows as the button flashes. _Right, right._ Evacuation. Can’t get Talia’s baby killed.

( _But does his own life really –)_

Jason is a mile away from the ship, Damian close to his chest, when it explodes.

_

Talia’s little silver box carries fake I.D.s, an insane amount of cash and an outdated smartphone. Jason kind of wants to cry, because it makes life magnanimously easier. He stops by a sketchy-looking store and buys some clothes, a variety of baby essentials, a backpack and a carriable car seat-baby carrier combo without using too much money. By the time he makes it to the bus station, the sun is high in the sky and both of them look passably decent. He climbs aboard the first bus heading to the central station in an effort to put more distance between himself and the League.

The bus driver looks like he’s seen it all, a scowl etched on his elderly face. He’s chewing something (Gum? Tabaco?) and rubbing his jaw irately. Jason hesitates, reconsidering the idea of public transport when the driver turns to him.

“One student pass?” the man says after a long moment of staring. When Jason freezes in uncertainty (suddenly feeling younger than he is), the man jerks his head to the side.

There’s a rustic ticketing sign right by the front window. _Under 18_ is listed for Student, where _Adult Student_ is anyone with a college card for proof of admission. Jason frowns. He’s pretty sure the guy means _Student,_ which means he thinks Jason is under eighteen. He can’t look _that_ young, can he? Sure, Talia says he’s supposed to be seventeen, but he hasn’t felt that old in, well, since _forever_.

He spares a glance at his reflection in the bus’s dashboard glass. Immediately, things fall into place. The hardness around his face seems to have disappeared without the constant presence of his instructors, leaving his eyes softer and face smoother. His hair has grown a healthy bit, looking far different from the buzzcut he received weeks ago. As a bonus, his new maroon hoodie covers up the scars littered on his arms and neck effectively.

 _I look like a normal teenager,_ Jason thinks, a mix of discomfort and fascination. _Did I look like this before?_

“So,” the driver drawls, and Jason swears instinctively. The driver is unbothered. “One student pass?”

“Uh,” he swallows, glancing back at the sign. “Yeah, yeah.”

The driver hands him the pass wordlessly and jerks his head to the other side towards the passenger seats are. Once he’s seated at the back and the bus lurches into motion, he’s able to relax and turn to Damian.

Damian seems to have only two forms: sleeping or shrieking. Right now, he is asleep, which is a blessing considering their need to stay low-profile, but who knows how long it’ll last. Between trying to keep him alive and maintain cover until they get to his dad, Jason wishes _he_ was the one sleeping all the time instead.

With an unsteady breath, Jason pulls out the rusty burner phone. May as well use the time productively to find out what exactly Batman is. Talia’s word should probably compensate for his utter lack of knowledge about “Batman”, but he’s not comfortable leaving Damian alone with a sketchy stranger without doing at least a little investigating of his own.

A quick internet search wields weird news headlines, like “ _BATMAN: GOTHAM’S SECRET SAVIOUR”_. Those articles look a little sketchy – between the hero-worship and excessive punctuation, Jason isn’t even sure to trust it – but at the very least, he’s able to pull out which city he’ll find the guy in, and the fact that he beats people up at night in a _literal_ bat suit.

The more he reads, the more he becomes highly concerned about Talia’s previous state of mind when she chose this guy – because come on, T. This guy beats up people at night in a _bat suit._ How many red flags can you miss without being declared colorblind?

The absurdity of the articles only increase as Jason continues to scroll down. One article published by _The Tea_ is titled, “ _IS BATMAN IN A SECRET RELATIONSHIP?”._ Underneath the headline, the photographer made a poor attempt to get a picture of the vigilante. The photo is essentially two black blob on a lone rooftop. Neither look human. If he had to guess, maybe they were trash cans? Maybe?

Jason decides that he really doesn’t want to go to Gotham.

But the thing is, not matter how deep Jason dives into the internet, it’s impossible to find out anything _useful_ about the man. No frequent location of sightings, no identity, nothing. If Jason is going to get Damian to Batman, he’s going to have to do it while the guy’s dressed up a bat. And that means he really does have to go to the hellhole that is Gotham.

The phone clicks shut as he massages his temples. A migraine is imminent. Why couldn’t Talia have chosen a _sane_ guy?

The bus map said that Gotham was a transfer away. If they got off at Blüdhaven on time, they’d be able to catch a bus to Gotham by afternoon. Afterwards, they should still have enough money to last a couple of weeks if he used it wisely. Maybe Jason could do some real close investigating of his own before handing off Talia’s infant to a man who beats people up in his free time.

A gentle draft wafts by him, and he flinches. _Keep your guard up, keep your guard up, keep –_

“Oh, I’m sorry dear. I didn’t mean to startle you,” a gentle voice interrupts. “Are you alright?”

Jason blinks a few times to orient himself back to reality. An elderly woman has taken a seat across from him, smiling softly at him. She looks as out of place as he feels, adorned in a bright, floral blouse and vibrant pants. It’s almost hard to look past her bright clothing.

It takes a few seconds to realize she asked him something, and _oh boy,_ time for social interaction. He’s been dreading this – after all, the only people he’s ever talked to have been _assassins._ “I… I’m okay, thank you.”

Her eyes seem to soften more with an emotion he can’t recognize, but before he can insist, she turns her attention to Damian. “Aww, is that your little brother?”

_No time for pleasantries no time for –_

“Yeah,” Jason says with a little more force than needed. He needs to get Talia out of his head – _now_. He wraps his arms around himself with a firm grip and tries to ground himself.

For the old lady’s part, she doesn’t react if she notices Jason on the verge of a mental breakdown. “He’s adorable. My grandson is probably around his age as well, just a few months old.”

Jason doesn’t know what to say, so he stays quiet while taking low breaths, trying to drown Talia’s voice out. A few moments pass.

“Has he started teething yet?” she asks suddenly, cooing at Damian, who is awake again. At the back of his mind, Jason wonders when Damian woke up. “Oh, silly me. You wouldn’t know that, your mother would.”

The old lady continues to drone on about who knows what, which Damian (surprisingly) seems to take as a welcome distraction. For the first time since Jason’s met him, Damian isn’t shrieking _or_ sleeping. His green eyes blink up at the woman in silence even when Jason starts to anxiously rock back and forward in his seat like a broken bobblehead.

It takes a few minutes, but his heart slows down, and his breaths come out steady again. The bus has faded to silence in the meantime, with the lady quietly cooing at a curious Damian as they approach a cityscape.

The tall towers up ahead are a palate of dark blues and greys. It would seem depressing without the rays of light cast down by the sun. The baby blue sky compliments the otherwise dull atmosphere of the city and Jason wonders how things would look at night. Talia had never taken him to a big city – too many risks and distractions, she’d say.

Absently, Jason notes the irony of her words. Navigating a place like this is one of the many things Talia’s training didn’t prepare him for. At least he could blame her for how badly his first solo mission was going.

Abruptly, the bus breaks into a noisy commotion. Within seconds, Jason has his arm outstretched in front of Damian’s car seat as a defensive barrier. His eyes dart around in confusion - no one’s coming for them. It takes him a few seconds to realize everyone on the bus seems to be gushing about something as they stare out the left windows.

The lady sitting with them seems to be just as entranced, not even sparing a glance at them as she speaks. “– goodness, how fortunate are we to see him today!”

 _Okay_ , this was something weird and non-League related. Unable to relax, Jason stiffly cranks his head to the side without relinquishing his defensive position.

There is a man. Flying. “What the _fuck –”_

The bus lurches forward to a rough stop, and with it, Damian. Jason’s heart pounds faster as puts his assassin-reflexes to use by grabbing onto the portable car seat. At this rate, he’s bound to have a heart attack soon.

“What’s _that?”_ Jason says, gesturing to the flying, colourful _thing_ outside.

“Oh dear, you’re not from around here, are you?” she asks while Jason tries to squash his panic at her observation. “That was Superman – he’s Metropolis’s superhero.”

“Superman,” Jason repeats in disbelief. The blur of red and blue takes on the distinguishable figure of a man the more he stares. Wow. This makes absolutely no sense. Why is everyone okay with a random man (or alien?) flying around the city. What makes him a superhero?

“He’s a super man,” Jason mumbles to himself as reasoning. He squints his eyes. “He can _fly_ , so that makes him super –”

“ _Next stop: Blüdhaven Terminal,”_ the bus driver’s voice cuts in from the intercom. Jason blinks. They had passed by the Metropolis stop at the same time as the Superman sighting. Gotham was _so_ close.

“We’re almost home,” Jason says in a low voice only for Damian to hear. As though it mattered. “We’re – you’re almost home.”

Right. He couldn’t afford to forget - Gotham was _not_ home. Not his, at least.

-

A few hours and a transfer later, Jason finally makes it to Gotham.

The news reports and web articles about Gotham City had failed to do it justice. Even the graphic images and grim words littered across all those articles failed to capture the darkness that lurked on each person’s face. The young and old alike flittered by with something akin to resigned dread, and their expressions were only punctuated by the tall, dark towers the littered the skyline over the bus station. While Metropolis was a little grim, it still had a pop of liveliness visible in each citizen’s face as they gazed upon their beloved “Superman _”._ Gotham seemed to embrace the melancholy that often came with big cities, and Batman’s presence had clearly failed to have the same effect as Superman did.

Damian was flitting in and out of sleep, and Jason was fortunate enough to stumble into a decent-looking café while Damian was out cold. Despite the colorful reds littered in the café’s retro interior, Jason could still feel the depressing atmosphere of the city weighing down on his chest.

 _This place is cursed,_ Jason thinks as he steps forward in line. _It even gives the League competition for gloominess._

“You’re up next, son,” a tired voice startles him from behind almost seconds later. Jason has to bite back a curse and manage a jerky nod as he steps forward. Minutes later, he’s sipping at hot chocolate while he is waiting in a second line for his baguette. Feeding Damian at the Blüdhaven bus station had paid off – he finally had some time to focus on himself.

This time when someone joins him in the line from behind, Jason gets a good look. The man nearly towered over Jason by a few inches – he was probably around six feet. He was decked in dark clothing – a business-casual look. What struck out the most was his dark eye-bags. His dark clothing, combined with the eye-bags, made him look a bit like a racoon.

Something glints at Jason’s eye from the inside of the man’s dark beige jacket. After a few seconds of inconspicuous gazing, he makes out a police badge.

 _This could be good,_ he realizes. As risky as it was talking to a cop, no one else would know about Batman better than someone who dealt with the guy on a (hopefully) regular basis. And while Talia hadn’t exactly taught me anything about covert ops, there couldn’t be more to it than acting natural. How hard could it be?

“So,” Jason clears his throat, drawing the man’s-tired gaze toward him. “Batman, huh?”

The man blinks. “Pardon?”

Jason coughs awkwardly. This guy was bad at picking up hints – time to switch tactics. “What do you know about Batman?”

“Excuse me –?”

“Is there a problem here, Stevens?” a new voice grumbles. Jason blinks, this time considerably less startled as a tall man approaches them in the line. He appears to be bordering six foot in length too, khaki trench coat only punctuating the fact. “I heard Batman.”

The first man – Stevens – frowns. “Ah, this kid was just asking about Batman, I think.”

Jason forces back a scowl at the words. If the guy knew what Jason was asking about, couldn’t he just answered the question?

Trench-coat man looks amused though, lips quirking upwards as he faces Jason. “Is that so?”

“Yeah,” Jason tries to say nonchalantly without making a face. Maybe this guy would be less dense. “Was just wondering. About him.”

This makes the trench-coat man look even more amused to Jason’s annoyance. “Are you a Batman fan, son?”

This time, Jason _does_ scowl as blood rushes to his face. Like hell is he a fan of a guy who probably deals with his problems by wearing a bat suit and punching people at night. Unlike the rest of the city, Jason has some _class._

Unfortunately (or perhaps luckily), the man takes his silence for an affirmative. He leans forward a little and lowers his voice. “It’s okay. Stevens here is a fan of the guy too.”

Stevens splutters in protest, turning as red as Damian does when he shrieks. It’s almost funny, which does a bit to calm Jason’s nerves. Trench-coat man seems decent, he thinks.

“Shut up, Gordon,” the man says without any bite. Then he smirks impishly. “It’s no secret that you see the Bat more than anyone else does.”

Jason’s eyes widen. While Gordon does cough a bit and reprimands Stevens for “speaking nonsense”, he doesn’t outright deny the fact, which is a good indicator it’s true. Jason may as well have hit a gold mine – this guy was a perfect information source! If Jason played his cards right, he could walk away with enough information to track Batman down tonight.

He needed to switch tactics again. Talia had taught him the basics of acting just in case he ever needed it. He needed it, _now_.

“I, uh,” Jason clears his throat to get Gordon’s attention. Then, he scratches his neck and ducks his head, hoping to play into the character of an awkward, teenage Batman fan. “I just think he’s really cool. It – it would be kind of amazing if I managed to see him one day, y’know?”

Immediately, Jason tries not to cringe as he keeps his head down. Talk about obvious.

Fortunately, fate seems to be somewhat in Jason’s favour today. Gordon smiles, almost _fondly._ “He is cool,” Gordon agrees, though he says “cool” weird, like he’s never used the word before. “His appearance has certainly worked wonders on the city’s nerves.”

“In a good way, right?” Jason asks, curious.

Gordon hums thoughtfully. “The average citizen tends to either like him, or remain wary of him. Though, he’s grown a bit on all of us over the past couple of years. I’d say the only ones who have a _real_ problem with him are criminals.”

“Criminals?” Jason echoes. “I mean, yeah, I get why. But does he really bother _every_ criminal?”

This prompts a near-devilish smile on the man’s face. It almost doesn’t look right on his grandfatherly face. “Even though he usually sticks to Arkham-level crimes, he does take down smaller crimes too. I couldn’t count how many times I’ve received a tied-up thief or petty criminal.”

Jason nods absently. Arkham Asylum had popped up in a few news articles earlier. Criminals and “superhumans” alike would often escape from the asylum and do something insane, like try to poison the city’s water supply – or release nature’s unholy wrath on the city. They were impossible to ignore – it was no wonder why they took priority with Batman.

An idea blooms in Jason’s head as he sets his cup down on the counter. He’s pretty sure he can track down Batman now, but he wants to get a decent read on the guy too. What better way to do that than a confrontation?

“He only deals with night crime, right?” he asks even though he knows the answer. He continues with something he’s less sure about, “Usually after midnight?”

“Ah, son,” Gordon’s voice is softer. “It’s not quite safe for a kid – or any citizen – to be out on the streets at night, looking for Batman.”

The slight inclination in his voice is all the confirmation Jason needs. He nods distractedly, contemplating what to do with Damian tonight as the cop continues about safety.

His first mistake is that he ignores when the man’s voice is replaced with the sound of static.

He sets Damian’s car seat on the ground after he shuffles forward in line with Gordon. Ideally, Jason wants to run a _thorough_ background check on Batman before leaving Damian in his care. Talia would be furious if she knew about his hesitance, but something doesn’t sit right about giving up a baby to a guy as sketchy as Batman.

His second mistake is dismissing the slight headache that blooms towards the front of his skull.

Logically, Jason knows he’s under lots of stress – perhaps more than he’s ever been in his entire life. On top of that, he’s barely eaten in the past twenty-four hours and Damian’s crying has been an ongoing nuisance. Given all that, a headache is expected. Distractedly, he wonders if normal people get this stressed out.

Jason squints at Gordon, who seems a little more blobbish than before. The man seemed pretty laxed before, and even now, he’s probably still going on about safety, of all things. On some level, he appreciates the sentiment, but at the same time he has to bite back some annoyance.

 _I’m not a regular citizen, Comish,_ he thinks with frustration he doesn’t recall building. The man blurs a little more, along with everything around him. _I’m Robi –_

_Jason is falling – falling through the air with the grace of a heavy paperweight. Yet, there’s a thrill in the air, knowing what will happen next. His body lurches downwards before he’s flying towards the sky._

_The sky is pretty, sprinkled with the soft light of the stars. He stares at it for a second, relishing the serenity of it, then propels his body to the left. He’s gliding downwards again._

_This time, he lands with grace on a rooftop, pavement hard against his boots. His face splits into a grin as he turns to his right, expectantly. A dark figure towers over him, seeming unscalable tall. “Dad, did you see that?”_

_Dad –?_

The world explodes into colour.

Jason wakes up.

_

The first thing Jason sees when he opens his eyes is red. Instinctively, he blinks a few times and the colour recedes to hair – Gordon’s ginger hair. The man’s face is twisted in worry as his lips move, saying something. Gordon – Gordon’s really close, isn’t he?

Jason stumbles back – _he was still standing?_ –blinking rapidly as he looks around. A few people in the purchase line are staring at him with what looks like concern. He tries to ignore how his skin crawls under the unwanted attention. Gordon and the other man – Stevens –are saying something to him, but Jason can’t hear them. He can’t hear anything over the sound of his heart, screaming in his ears.

He throws a glance at Damian, who’s still (as expected) lying in the car seat that Jason’s been griping like a lifeline. Damian looks like he’s shrieking again – _of course he had to wake up now_. Jason is starting to feel hysteric. _He_ feels like shrieking.

This was a full blown Lazarus Pit episode. Talia had warned him about this – when the pit would finally start to repair his memories, he’d be forced into them while his body entered a frenzied state. Up until now, the pit’s effects was limited to when he’d fight. This was the first time this kind of thing had ever happened.

It didn’t feel good – not physically. Mentally, he spared a moment to wonder what kind of life he lived to have a memory like _that._

“– contact?” Gordon is saying, and Jason finally hears him. “A parent or guardian who can come pick you up?”

The question elicits a breathless laugh from Jason, bordering hysteria. He can imagine a confrontation between Talia and Gordon, where one ends up stabbing the other and leaving no witnesses behind to testify to the crime.

Suddenly, he’s not feeling so light-headed anymore.

“I’m – I’m sorry,” Jason says, swallowing as his heart works to regain a slower beat. “I – sometimes, I have in – incidents. It’s a medical – medical condition.” 

The words sound weak to his own ears, so it’s no surprise when Gordon and Stevens exchange a look that indicates they see through his paper-thin lie. Stevens not-so-discreetly slips out his phone and steps away, while Gordon turns back to him. Panic seizes his chest – he has to get out of here, _now._

“My – my mom is waiting for me outside,” Jason manages breathlessly. His lifts up Damian’s car seat quickly. “I – I should go.”

Gordon tenses at the same time Jason tightens his grip on Damian’s car seat. The man reaches out to Jason – like he knows what’s about to happen – but Jason’s quick. He turns on his heel and pushes past the crowd behind him, eliciting a few yells and curses while trying to keep Damian’s car seat close. Seconds later, he’s stumbling out of the café while people are yelling inside. It’s only a matter of time before Gordon or someone else catches up.

_Be competent or your life is naught, be competent or your life –_

He breaks out into a run down the street, heart pounding while Damian screams. He can only imagine how this looks – a kid dressed in shabby clothing, running down the street with a screaming baby. If he’s quick enough, maybe he can avoid having cops chase after him and ruining whatever discreet image he had left.

 _As if I ever stood a chance in the real world,_ he thinks bitterly as he cuts a corner into an alley. So far, he doesn’t hear anyone behind him. If he can widen the distance between himself and the café, he might be able to get away legally unscathed.

It suddenly makes sense why Talia never let Jason into public by himself. He wasn’t ready then, and he certainly wasn’t ready now.  
-

After what feels like forever, Jason finds himself in a deserted alleyway dozens of blocks away from the café. The alley is squashed between abandoned factory buildings, which means it’s unlikely anyone will think to come check here. They should be safe.

He collapses to the ground after shakily setting Damian’s car seat down. His heart is pounding louder and faster than ever and _he can’t stop shaking_.

He curls into himself as tremors rake through his body. Everything feels like too much – he can feel the blood rushing through his veins – the adrenaline screaming at him to _move._ His chest hurts and he feels like crying, but he stays put, focusing on the sound of Damian’s cries from his car seat.

 _Your safe,_ Jason tells himself. It feels like a lie, but he grasps onto it like a lifeline. _You're safe, you're safe, you're safe, you're safe –_

He holds onto the mantra like a lifeline and looks for something to ground himself with. The alley is empty and Jason has no interest in messing with Damian’s car seat, so he rests his head on the brick wall and focuses on the sky above.

The sun is setting – the day is finally coming to an end. Pink bleeds into magenta, which at a distance fades into a royal purple. There are few clouds in the sky, and they rapidly float away from the sun. The sun’s beams peak over the wall behind Jason, casting a shadow just over him. Sunlight takes up the rest of the alley, colouring the opposing wall in a goldish light.

He stares for a moment, basking into the serenity of the view. Hesitantly, he holds out a shaky palm towards a stray ray of light. His rough skin takes on a golden tint as warmth blankets his hands.

It’s nice – and _warm._

A minute later, he pulls himself together enough to scoot away from the wall, further into the veil of light. Warmth washes over his legs and arms, seeping into his clothing. When he turns his face towards the light, he feels the heath wash over his face. For a moment, he allows himself to close his eyes.

Sunlight feels nice – even more so when he thinks about how scarcely he’d see it during his training with the League. It feels familiar too, the way his memory did.

Flying through the air – landing on rooftops with his dad by his side? Just thinking about the implications of _that_ gives him a headache. It implies a lot of things – he had received familial training before the pit, he never lived a normal life before – and Talia likely took him in because of his unique background. There are thousands of possibilities, and it becomes harder and harder to focus on the happiness of the memory. 

He swallows, opening his eyes. The sun had dipped enough to filter sunlight out of the alley, which meant it was getting late. There was no use in worrying about something he couldn’t focus on yet. Damian was the priority, Damian came first. After all this got sorted out, he’d hopefully have time to track his old life down.

Still shaking the slightest bit, Jason pushes himself off the pavement and picks Damian’s car seat up. The kid’s still crying, so Jason knows (or rather, assumes) he needs to be fed again. Unsteadily, he sets out of the alley in search for a cheap motel. The mindlessly murmurs of soft assurances and the gentle rocking of his car seat might make a difference soon. The area is deserted enough to protect them from prying eyes for time being. With great difficulty, he tries to think optimistically.

The day isn’t entirely wasted yet – he could still set his plan into action.

Gordon _had_ said one thing of value. Batman frequently dealt with “Arkham-level” crimes – the high-intensity and unordinary kinds. Perhaps luckily, he had earned a reputation in the League for being reckless and dangerous. For the first time in forever, he didn’t feel entirely useless.

He would make this work. He’d see Batman tonight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's finally here!  
> Before I say anything, I just wanted to thank everyone for your support. Every kudos and every comment made my day(s)! I'm really thankful for your kind words and encouragement and I look forward to sharing more with you guys in the future :) 
> 
> Next up, thank you for your patience! Now that this chapter is out, things will definitely start to escalate in the coming chapters ;) In terms of a schedule, I hope to keep my chapter updates under the 2-week mark. Chapter 3 is in the works, so I'll hopefully see you soon! 
> 
> Please feel free to leave a comment or kudos behind! Have a wonderful week, and I'll see you soon!

**Author's Note:**

> Hello!  
> Presenting a fic with some of my favorite AUs and tropes, including and not limited to amnesiac!Jason, baby!Damian and much more to come! I wanted to get this up some time ago, so finally, here it is!
> 
> Hearing what you guys think would make my day, so please feel free to comment or kudos! More to come soon, until next time!


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